Silence
by notmagnificent
Summary: //"In the elevator, he is running over a stern-but-gentle harangue about sniffing around in cases a week after being shot, but when the doors open and he sees two sized-8 feet peering out innocently from under her desk, his resolve ebbs."//Post-Cry.


**A/N: This is my second piece written for the Month of Mayhem down at LJ. It happens about a week after 'Don't Cry'.  
**

After spending six days on constant vigilance in the Intensive Care Unit, the grocery store seems so foreign to Marshall. He had been there countless times, could find the pickles dizzy and blind, but the white walls of the hospital had bleached his mind of most everything. Following the quick trip inside that takes him about five minutes more than normal, he lethargically crosses the parking lot to his SUV.

The plastic bags rustle as he puts them in the passenger seat, and he feels a distinct twisting in his gut when he is reminded of what's missing.

His own house is a bit past the U.S. Marshall Service building, and as he passes it the light radiating from his office catches his eye. The parking lot to this building is small, so when he slows down in search of familiar cars it is not hard to spot Mary's Probe parked carelessly in a spot near to the door.

He swings into the lot, grabs the spot adjacent to Mary's, and heads for the door.

In the elevator, he is running over a stern-but-gentle harangue about sniffing around in cases a week after being shot, but when the doors open and he sees two sized-8 feet peering out innocently from under her desk, his resolve ebbs.

It is only when he sees her staring eyes and her bloodstained stomach that it all falls apart and makes way for cold, terrorizing fear.

He pulls at her arm to make sure she's still alive, and when it snaps back into place like clockwork he can start breathing again.

"Mary."

Nothing.

"Mary, you need to go back to the hospital." She is still wearing her gown, which has come loose in the middle, exposing some of the pale skin on her chest.

He tries pulling at her again, but her frame is rigid. As he kneels to pick her up, she lets out a single, raspy word.

"Stay."

"You need to come with me. Your wound has reopened," Marshall says urgently. He tries to hide the fact that his voice is cracking, but at this point it cannot be helped.

She shakes her head.

The blood on her stomach is turning brown, a sign that the bleeding has stopped.

He sits down.

*

Motionless, she remains seated. The clock on the wall has never seemed louder, and Mary's breathing has never been more alarmingly quiet.

*

_Tick, tock._

_One dollar and nineteen cents is the largest amount of money that one can have without being able to make change for a dollar._

_Tick, tock._

_Three quarters, four dimes, and four pennies._

_*  
_

She adjusts her feet. He worriedly stares at her for a minute and sixteen seconds after she stops moving.

*

_The most common name in the world is Mohammed._

_Tick, tock._

_There are ten human body parts that are three letters long._

_Tick, tock._

_Eye, ear, hip, arm, leg, toe, lip, jaw, rib, gum._

_Tick, tock._

_Mary has a small, puckered scar on her arm from a fight with a past boyfriend that ended in broken bottles and fistfights. _

_*  
_

Another glance in her direction. He thinks she is crying, but the shadow of the desk obscures her eyes.

In forty seven seconds, he sees that she is not crying, and Marshall wonders if that is good or bad.

*

_Mary's birthday is April 13, 1977._

_For her sixth birthday party, her father hired a clown, who Mary punched in the shins because he did not know how to make a balloon porcupine._

_Tick, tock._

"Marshall."

He breaks from his reverie with a jump, and is immediately at attention.

"I know what he looks like."

Her eyes are still fixated on the same spot, but when she speaks he can see that she is struggling.

"I know what he looks like. I can see him in my head all the time, _all the time, _and I can't remember his face."

The fabric of her hospital gown slides up her leg as she bunches it in her fist. He counts the veins he can see beneath her skin as he waits for her to speak again.

She wets her lips, then whispers.

"It's like a goddamned disease, Marshall."

A small noise is made when a single tear strikes the cotton of her gown.

"I know."

_Tick, tock._

**Please review!**_  
_


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